


Night Has Always Pushed Up Day

by enigmaticblue



Series: What's Behind and What's Before [4]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Cop Blair Sandburg, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: Blair can see what’s coming, and he pulls his car over to the median in order to help. He already knows this is going to be ugly.
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Series: What's Behind and What's Before [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/188801
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	Night Has Always Pushed Up Day

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Mumford & Sons song, “After the Storm,” and written for the hc_bingo prompt “vehicle crash.”
> 
> Blair isn't the one injured here, but there are some descriptions of the aftermath of a major car crash, with fatalities.

Blair has spent a few hours on the stand testifying, and he’s tired, but also relieved. Every time he has to testify, and every time that any objections as to his veracity gets squashed—because he’d gone after the publisher, and because his dissertation has nothing to do with his work as a sworn officer of the law—

Well, Blair feels like he gets a little more distance from the fiasco.

Besides, Blair had been testifying today about the chain of evidence, to make it clear that he and Jim had taken possession of the drugs from the criminalist who collected it, and Blair had signed it in to evidence. _That_ was the reason that Blair testified, and not Jim.

He’s just glad it’s over. He’s loosened his tie, and can’t wait until he can get back to the PD, where he can get back to the case they’d been working on.

This time, it’s a human trafficking ring, and Blair has to admit that he hated taking time off from that investigation to testify in a drug possession case involving a hundred pounds of marijuana. Granted, they’re pretty sure that the dealer was responsible for a number of deaths, and a conviction will get him off the streets, but they also have at least five missing kids that they’re tracking, and probably a hell of a lot more.

The trial is taking place in the next county over, since that had been determined to be the nexus of the crime—in effect, where the marijuana was growing, and not necessarily where it was sold.

So, he’s on the I-5, anxious to get back to Cascade, and it’s late afternoon, which means most of the traffic is flowing from the city, and not towards it. Blair’s in the left lane, pushing his speed as much as he can, and he watches in horror as a car spins out of control ahead.

Blair knows what’s coming, and he cranks the wheel to get his car on the median, out of harm’s way, so he can do whatever he can to help.

His door is open and he’s heading towards the scene when the crash occurs. Blair stops cold at the sight, watching in horror as the cars pile up. The car that spins out of control gets t-boned, and then four more cars pile up before everyone else comes to a screeching halt.

He’d taken his suit jacket and tie off before he started driving back so he wouldn’t get too wrinkled, and he rolls up his sleeves as he runs towards the scene. The first car he passes doesn’t look too badly damaged.

Blair checks in on the driver and sees that the airbag has deployed, and the woman has a cut over her eye, but she waves him off when Blair knocks on her window. “I’m fine,” she says, and she looks through the windshield to see the mess in front of her. “There are others who are going to need help more.”

He nods and races to the next car. That driver, a middle-aged man with a couple of kids in the backseat, is already out and reassuring his children that they’re all fine.

Blair bypasses that car altogether for the next, filled with three college-aged women, who seem to be in a bit of shock, but otherwise are fine. That driver climbs out shakily. “I’m a nursing student. Can I help?”

“I’m still working my way to them,” Blair replies, jerking his head at the tangle of cars—or, rather, a four-door sedan, a minivan, a truck that had done the t-boning, and the nondescript compact car that had originally spun out of control.

Blair dreads what he’ll find in the compact car, as damaged as it is. The truck is nearly intact, and the minivan has a crumpled front end. The sedan has a crumpled backend, but doesn’t seem too badly off, but it’s the compact car…

The car is starting to smoke, too, and Blair knows he needs to get over there. “Check on the rest of the drivers, get people moving away from the scene and onto the shoulder. See if someone called 911.”

The nursing student nods and calls back to the other girls, “Call 911!”

Blair figures that multiple 911 calls won’t hurt, and might actually bring a faster response. He can see movement around the minivan, and the driver of the sedan has opened their door. The truck really is mostly intact.

Blair forces himself to jog up to the compact car. The driver of the truck is out and vomiting on the asphalt. “I don’t know what happened,” he moans. “I don’t understand what happened.”

“Are you okay?” Blair demands, needing to get to the compact car, but the man is retching again.

“I didn’t—I couldn’t stop.”

Realizing that he’s getting no sense out of the man, Blair turns to the compact, and immediately understands why the man was throwing up.

The driver of the compact is nearly unrecognizable. Blair can see long, blonde hair, but he knows better than to make assumptions based on that alone, and there isn’t enough left of their face to give him any clues. The female in the passenger seat is unconscious, maybe dead, Blair can’t quite tell. It’s clear that the force of the impact had caused her to crack her head against the window, as there’s a wide smear of blood on the glass and the hint of a crack.

Blair can see the smoke, and he knows he has a limited amount of time to get any survivors out of the vehicle. He glances towards the back seat, and sees the body of a young boy, just as bloody as the driver. The child’s arm has been broken badly enough that there’s a bone piercing the skin, and his face is a mass of cuts, with blood streaming from a gash at his temple.

He reaches through the open window to test for a pulse, but there’s nothing.

Blair smells gasoline and smoke, and turns his attention to the baby seat on the other side of the car. He runs around to the other side of the car, and is grateful when the door opens easily. The seat appears to be intact, even though the infant isn’t making any noise.

He fumbles for the seatbelt, trying to figure out how to get the carrier out, since he doesn’t know if the baby is injured, although he can see her chest moving.

She’s decked out in pink ruffles, so Blair feels pretty comfortable thinking that she’s a girl.

The nursing student shows up next to him. “Here,” she says. “Let me. I have some experience. You check the passenger.”

Blair tries to find a pulse, but there’s nothing. No breaths, no signs of life, and her dark eyes are open and unseeing.

He doesn’t think he’ll get over the sight any time soon.

“Get away from the car,” Blair says hoarsely, hearing the flames beginning to crackle. “We need to move.”

He can hear the sound of sirens approaching, but they’re going to be too late for the three people in the car that had originally caused the accident.

Once they’re far enough away, he and the nursing student crouch over the baby carrier.

“I think she’s okay,” the nursing student says. “She just—seems to be a really deep sleeper.”

As if on cue, the baby lets out a high, thin cry, waving her small fists around, her eyes screwed shut.

The student lets out a gasp of relief in unison with Blair’s, and they both grin briefly. “I didn’t get your name,” the student says. “I’m Jamie.”

“Detective Blair Sandburg,” Blair replies. “Call me Blair.”

“I was going to guess something like that,” Jamie admits. “Not everybody runs _towards_ a crash.”

Blair thinks about the driver of the truck puking on the road, and he has to agree. “You did.”

“I’m hoping to be an ER nurse,” Jamie replies with a wry smile. “I would _hope_ I’d run towards the crash.”

The ambulance and fire and rescue truck are both coming from Cascade, so they have to drive over the median to get to the crash site. Blair figures he should probably take charge of the scene. “Can I leave her with you? We’ll probably need to get your statement, too.”

Jamie nods. “Of course. We’ll look after her until the paramedics are ready to look at her.”

Blair pulls his badge out and prepares to be official, trying to put everything but the job out of his mind. He approaches the fire captain, who’s directing his people and the paramedics. “Detective Blair Sandburg. I saw what happened. We pulled an infant in a car seat out of the compact car.”

“Captain Dyson. Is the child safe?” he asks.

Blair nods. “She’s with another witness who helped me pull her out of the vehicle. The other three in the car are dead.”

Dyson winces. “Fuck. Okay. I’m going to call for more bodies, if you’ll help me control the scene, Detective. I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Blair replies. “Happy to help.”

He spares a thought for Jim, who is definitely going to wonder where he is, but Blair can’t spare a moment to grab his cell phone from his car to call. He just has to hope that word trickles back to his partner.

~~~~~

Jim is anxiously watching the clock. Blair should have returned to the station at least a couple of hours ago, but there’s no sign of him, and no calls either.

Rafe and H come into the bullpen, making a beeline for Jim. “Did you hear about the accident on the I-5?”

Since Blair had been in the town south of Cascade, and would be heading back on the interstate, Jim immediately feels a sense of fear. “No. What about it?”

“Five cars involved, and three dead,” H replies. “Wasn’t Blair down south for a trial?”

“Yeah, and he’s overdue,” Jim replies grimly.

Rafe offers a reassuring smile. “Come on, this is Sandburg. He might be in the midst of it, but you know he’ll land on his feet.”

“Do you know if it’s Cascade that’s working it?” Jim asks.

“Not sure,” H replies.

Jim knows he can make a few calls and find out, and he picks up the phone.

“Ellison!” Simon shouts. “My office.”

Jim bites back a curse and gets up. When he pokes his head into Simon’s office, he says, “Close the door.”

Jim does so, and settles in a chair across from Simon’s desk when Simon waves him into a seat. “What’s up?”

“The feds want your human trafficking case,” Simon replies.

Jim frowns. “Come on, Simon! We’re making real progress here!”

“Which is what I told them,” Simon replies. “But we know they’ve crossed state lines, so they do have jurisdiction. They’re willing to let you two take the lead on the Cascade angle, but a special agent is going to be here tomorrow to talk to you both. You’ll play nice.”

Simon’s tone doesn’t leave any room for argument. “I’ll do my best,” Jim grumbles. “Or I’ll let Blair take the lead.”

“You do that,” Simon says wryly. “He does have the gift of gab. Speaking of, where is Sandburg?”

Jim shrugs. “He should have returned by now, but Rafe and H just told me there was a major accident on the I-5.”

“He hasn’t called?” Simon asks.

Jim shakes his head.

“Go make some calls, see if you can get a bead on him,” Simon replies. “You’ll need to get your notes and case file together for your meeting with the agent tomorrow.”

“Who’s the agent?” Jim asks to distract himself from worry.

“Special Agent Debbie Michaels,” Simon replies. “She actually seemed sympathetic to the two of you staying on the case. Maybe you can butter her up a little.”

Jim isn’t going to let on how unlikely that is. “I guess we’ll see if she’s immune to my charms, or to Blair’s.”

“Go make some calls,” Simon orders. “Locate your partner, and then get your case ready to present tomorrow.”

Jim has a few contacts that he’s cultivated over the years, and he knows someone in emergency dispatch. “This is Don.”

“Don, it’s Jim Ellison,” Jim replies. “I’m trying to get some information on that accident on the I-5.”

Don’s voice is amused. “I wondered when I’d be hearing from you. Your partner has taken charge of the scene. Apparently, he managed to rescue an infant from a burning vehicle.”

Jim chuckles. “Well, that sounds like him. I just wanted to check. Sounds like he’ll be tied up for a while.”

“The injured have been transported from the scene, but he’s holding it for the accident investigators,” Don replies. “Shouldn’t be too long now, I would expect.”

Jim heaves a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I appreciate the intel.”

“Any time, man,” Don says. “I owe you.”

“I was doing my job,” Jim counters.

Don’s wife had suffered a brutal attack a year or two before Jim met Blair, and Jim had located her attacker. There had been no senses involved, just good detective work.

“Because of you, my wife sleeps at night, at least most of the time,” Don counters. “Take care of yourself, Jim.”

“You, too,” Jim replies.

He gets started on putting their notes and case file together, guessing that Blair isn’t going to be interested in doing it when he does get to the station. An accident like that is ugly, and takes time to sort out.

Jim is putting on the finishing touches when Blair enters the bullpen, appearing rumpled and exhausted, his tie gone, his coat draped over an arm, the cuff of his shirt stained with blood. Jim can smell the blood, as well as gasoline and smoke, and he hits save and stands up.

“You okay?” he asks in a low voice, wanting nothing more than to pull Blair in for a hug, but knowing he can’t do that at the station.

Blair nods. “Just tired. Long day.”

“I heard a bit about it,” Jim says, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Blair shakes his head. “No, man. Our case—“

“We’re meeting with an FBI agent tomorrow about it, and I put our notes together,” Jim replies. “Are you hungry? We can stop for something on the way home.”

Blair winces. “Not that hungry, no.”

“You okay to drive?” Jim asks. “I can stop by the deli on the way, and you can go straight home for a shower and a change of clothes.”

Blair lets out a long sigh. “Oh, man. That sounds about perfect.”

“Consider it done,” Jim says.

The deli is out of his way, but he doesn’t mind. He orders matzoh ball soup and a couple of pastrami sandwiches, and by the time he gets home, Blair is in the shower. Jim leaves the food on the counter and changes into something a little more comfortable, and Blair is out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam by the time he finishes.

Blair is wearing sweats, his feet bare, and he walks straight into Jim’s arms. Jim holds him tightly, feeling him tremble. “Bad scene?”

“Fucking awful,” Blair mutters. “I could see it happen, Jim. A car spun out of control, and then it just piled up.”

“I heard three dead,” Jim replies, running a hand through Blair’s damp curls.

“Two women and a kid,” Blair admits. “The infant was the only one who survived out of that car, and only because the car seat protected her. God, Jim, the boy couldn’t have been more than five. He probably should have been in a car seat, too, but…”

Jim understands what Blair means. They never want to blame the victims, but it’s hard not to let your brain go to “if only.”

And when there’s a dead kid, it’s that much harder not to go there. “Do you want to eat?”

“Yeah,” Blair says. “I know I should, especially since you went out of your way.”

“It’s hardly out of my way when I know it’s something you’ll eat, and you need comfort food,” Jim replies.

Blair pulls him down for a kiss. “Thanks, man.”

And if Blair is quiet and a little sad that night, Jim doesn’t blame him. And if they go to bed that night and just cuddle, well…isn’t that what partners do?

At the end of the day, if they’re together, and in one piece, then Jim is satisfied.


End file.
